


So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings

by WashboardRibsAndBrokenCribs



Series: Coma Baby [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Apologies, Ass to Mouth, Autism Spectrum, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Tension, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Comeplay, Confrontations, Dirty Talk, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing Kink, M/M, Mouth Kink, Past Rape/Non-con, Praise Kink, Rape Aftermath, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Self-Esteem Issues, Snowballing, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashboardRibsAndBrokenCribs/pseuds/WashboardRibsAndBrokenCribs
Summary: They needed to talk about what happened—Shaun needed to come clean, Desmond needed answers and apologies.
Relationships: Shaun Hastings/Desmond Miles
Series: Coma Baby [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915558
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> excuse the delay on this one, i wanted to get it out a week after the last part, but my beta forgot to reply and i was too shy to remind them. story of my life lmao
> 
> for those who read part one: desmond's pov of the incident will come later. like i said, it'll be a little bonus to this series after this is all done. ~~because its not as polished lol~~
> 
> i am LIVING for autistic shaun tbh. its not so explicit in this particular chapter, but hey ho. 
> 
> set during AC3

The question of how much he heard from them during his coma came up more than once. The first time to catch him up to speed (Dad), the second time out of curiosity (Rebecca), and the third time out of worry (Shaun). 

He wanted to say that Shaun should be worried, but truth be told… Desmond wasn’t actually that mad at him. A little, definitely, in fact he had been damn near furious while he was still under. But in the time since then… 

Shaun’s words stuck with him, in more ways than one. Because they were hot, yeah, but also because they revealed more about himself than was probably intended. There was longing and need in the things he said, the desperation coming through in his tone and his actions, however little Desmond could make out. 

Shaun cared about him, and more pressingly, he wanted him. Badly. And, in Desmond’s opinion, seeing him comatose like that triggered something in him, a need to act on his desires as it might be his last chance. In a way, it made sense.

Still didn’t fucking excuse what he did, though. 

…Okay, maybe he _was_ still a little pissed off. 

He really couldn’t stay mad at him, though, partly due to his easygoing nature, and partly due to how much Shaun was freaking out. There was hesitation and fear in everything he did; he refused to even look Desmond in the eye. Rebecca commented more than once how it looked like Shaun wasn’t getting enough sleep (“even less than usual,” to use her words), and Desmond hated to think that he was the reason behind that. 

They needed to talk about what happened—Shaun needed to come clean, Desmond needed answers and apologies. 

From then on, it was just a matter of cornering him. And Desmond knew exactly how he was going to do it. 

Thank God Shaun didn’t have the same field training as him. 

Desmond had already turned off and pocketed his earpiece. Now it was just a matter of doing the same for Shaun’s—it was best if they had this conversation privately, or as privately as they could (thank you, Juno). Couldn’t really do that without either asking him or doing it himself. He chose the latter. 

Shaun was completely unaware, still examining the gate they had yet to unlock. Perfect opportunity, really. 

He tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as he could, used the shadows to his advantage, as well as any stray sounds echoing in the cave. If Shaun knew he was coming, he didn’t show it. 

Up until the very last second, when Desmond took those last few steps quickly, pressing his body up against Shaun’s and covering his mouth. 

He yelped, of course, and was probably ready to start screaming. Desmond leaned in to the side that didn’t have the communicator in, and whispered as quietly as he could. 

“ _Shh. It’s just me._ ”

That made Shaun relax somewhat, as well as… make him shiver, Desmond could feel it against him. Whether that was due to their proximity or his breath on Shaun’s neck, it was hard to say. 

Before he forgot, Desmond removed Shaun’s earpiece and clicked it off, dropping it to the ground beside them, and finally released him. 

Christ, you’d think Shaun was being suffocated by how desperate his gasps were. He nearly collapsed, a hand on his chest while he gathered himself. Desmond just sat back and watched, until Shaun finally turned to face him. He could see there was an instinct the other man had to snark at him, but it died once the situation sunk in. 

“We… we should talk.” 

“Oh god,” was all Shaun could manage, the color draining from his face. 

“I’m not gonna kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“W… why not?”

That made him laugh. “I mean, if you really want me to…”

“N-no, no that’s quite alright,” he held his hands up defensively—God, he was shaking so much. 

“Jesus Christ, man, take a breath,” Desmond put a hand on his shoulder, Shaun jumping away at the touch, “I just want to talk about what happened, that’s all.” 

All he could think to do was pull Shaun down to the ground, to sit next to him, to offer what he hoped was a comforting touch in moving his hand from Shaun’s shoulder to his back. Eventually he was able to get him to relax, at least a little more, Desmond watching silently as Shaun went back and forth between running his hands through his hair and fidgeting with his glasses. 

“W… what do you want me to say?” Shaun’s voice was soft and hoarse. 

To which Desmond could only think to shrug. He wasn’t expecting that question, honestly. “I mean… nothing. I guess just… tell me why you did what you did? That’s really what I want to know.”

He could see the panic set in to Shaun’s expression. The fidgeting began once again, more frantic, Shaun shifting his position multiple times, pulling his legs out from under himself only to tuck them back in a few minutes later. “I… I was drunk…” he began. “I was angry, and panicked, and on the verge of a meltdown, and you were just… there.” 

Desmond clicked his tongue in disbelief. “Yeah, being drunk doesn’t mean you get a free pass to…” _rape_ was the end of that sentence, but he cut it off pretty quickly. He felt that Shaun could still sense the word, though. 

“…You’re right, it doesn’t. I guess… it was the culmination after months of… of resentment, and anxiety, and anger and fear and frustration… Everything just came to a head. I-I’m not the kind to just lash out at someone violently, no matter how far you push me,” A smug grin from Desmond saying that _he could have guessed that._ “This… was kind of the closest I’ve ever come to flying off the handle.”

Another long pause, another few minutes spent fidgeting. 

“Can I ask…” Shaun mumbled, “…why you aren’t mad? I mean, I know you are, but I expected violence.”

Desmond just shrugged again. “I don’t know, I guess… I’m just kinda laid back. Even at my angriest, I wasn’t considering killing you. Maybe fucking with you a bit, because you deserve that,” Shaun nodded in agreement. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I still see you as a friend.”

Shaun laughed, bitter and cynical, “I honestly don’t see why. I mean, I thought I’d accepted the fact that I was going to hell—I always knew I would be—but I never saw myself as the bad guy. When I was a bastard to others, it was because they were ignorant. When I killed, it was out of survival. At my worst, I could always justify my actions as being for the right reasons. Until now. Frankly, if you awoke from that coma and killed me where I stood, I wouldn’t even fight back.” 

That honestly kind of hurt, to hear that come from Shaun himself. Part of him wanted to believe that he was just saying it because he thought it was what Desmond wanted to hear, but… it was too real, Shaun honestly thought that about himself, and that really fucking sucked. 

“Shaun… why did you do it?”

That drew a look. “I-I thought I told you, because I was—”

“Shaun,” he repeated more firmly, “I wasn’t kidding when I said that I heard everything that went on while I was in that coma. I heard what you said.” Another look of shock, the reality of his words finally setting in. “Why did you do it?”

The unspoken _say it_ hung between them. They both knew what it was, the thing that Shaun had very pointedly been omitting up until now, the part he was hoping they’d both have forgotten about. 

Shaun pulled off his glasses again, pressing a hand to his eyes, his breath coming short and choppy. After all this, he was crying. He was the one who did this, something that should have completely and irrevocably broken Desmond’s trust in him, and yet _he_ was the one who was crying. 

If it were anyone else, it would have been infuriating. Hell, if this were a past version of Shaun, that dick he’d first met when being rescued from Abstergo, maybe he could have been mad. Maybe he could have felt some schadenfreude over this now-irredeemable person breaking down, feeling rightfully ashamed and guilty. 

But not now. Not _this_ Shaun. Even if Desmond no longer saw him as a friend (which wasn’t the case), he knew Shaun’s character enough to know that… he couldn’t justify his death. He wasn’t innocent, but all of this, this anger and resentment and whatever else was brewing away in this nightmarish cocktail of emotions, was all drawn from Shaun’s own self-loathing and his feelings towards Desmond. 

He knew it. They both knew it. Shaun just couldn’t say it. 

“…It’s true, isn’t it?” 

That broke him. His head fell to his knees, his pride gone, and he was left sobbing. 

It fucking hurt. Any feelings of antipathy Desmond may have had left melted away. He couldn’t stand to see him like this. 

“Shaun… come here.” He grabbed Shaun by the shoulders, gently but firmly pulling him closer. The first touch and Shaun fell apart even further, leaning into his grasp and clinging to him like his life depended on it. His face buried into Desmond’s shoulder, fists balling in his hoodie, he sobbed, loud and desperate. 

It really made Desmond feel useless, like there was nothing he could do. And there kind of wasn’t. He held onto Shaun tighter and tried to ride it out. 

He didn’t know how long they were there. Minutes, though it felt like years, of Desmond rubbing circles into Shaun’s back and occasionally petting his hair. He really didn’t know what he was doing. When Shaun’s sobs died down, Desmond almost didn’t notice, feeling his shoulders continue to shake, until he heard Shaun laughing. 

The same bitter, self-deprecating laughter he heard before. Shaun pushed him away himself, smiling. His skin was ruddy, his eyes red and puffy, his whole face still wet, and he was smiling. “What a sight, eh? The world’s going to end in a few months, and here I am crying over my bloody feelings for you.” He scoffed at himself. “The more things change, the more they stay the same, yeah?”

Desmond forced a smile too, but it didn’t last. Shaun was still sniffling and wiping away tears, and much as he might try to hide it behind his typical snark, he could break down again at any moment. “…At least you got to admit you had these feelings.” 

“Yeah, well…” he shook his head, running a hand through his hair again, “Call that my nihilism kicking in. The world’s gonna end, we’re all gonna die, what does it matter if I’ve got an unrequited crush on The Chosen One, yeah?” 

“ _Please_ don’t call me that,” Desmond laughed. “And you’re just assuming the world’s gonna end… just like you’re assuming that it’s unrequited.” 

Shaun gave another amused scoff, more tears forming in his eyes already. “That’s real cruel of you, Desmond, to kick me when I’m down like this.”

“Jesus Christ, Shaun…” There was cynical, and then there was _denial._ “Alright, call it _my_ nihilism kicking in now. If the world is gonna end—which it might not—what’s it matter if I acknowledge those feelings? What’s it matter if I wanna indulge them, or even reciprocate them?”

He was still smirking, the smug bastard. “You really believe that, don’t you? Honestly, I think all that time with Connor is getting to you—you’re starting to sound optimistic.” 

For the first time since all of this happened, Desmond was actually starting to get angry. “Shaun, I’m just trying to help. I’m offering myself to you _consensually,_ ” the word came out more bitter than he intended, Shaun wincing and looking ashamed at hearing it, “but if you want to reject something that both you and I want, fine. That’s on you.” 

Shaun didn’t even respond. He just sat there and took it. 

The higher part of his brain, the one that actually experienced empathy and was sympathetic to Shaun’s emotions, was screaming at him to stop. The part that won out, though, was what drove him to scramble to his feet and storm away, not even sparing a second glance. 

He’d made it all the way back to the Animus, to Rebecca’s confused stare, before it really sunk in. Already he was feeling remorse, but there was still a sick, twisting anger inside him that he didn’t know what to do with, that overpowered his rationality. 

He couldn’t think like this, couldn’t think about this now, he needed something else—

He had plopped down on the Animus slab before he knew it, arm out expectantly, leaving a confused-as-ever Rebecca to plug him in. 

He’d never been so thankful for the encroaching darkness of the Animus, swallowing him up and leaving Desmond Miles behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i royally fucked my sleep schedule up to crank this thing out. i got other things i wanna work on more, but i needed to finish this because if i didnt keep myself to a schedule then i'd never get it done.
> 
> and to everyone leaving comments on both parts of this, thank you so much! i'm sorry i haven't replied, adhd and depression arent friends and i used up all my good words on writing lmao. but its very appreciated and i read every single one of them multiple times because they make me so happy, you have no idea <333

Even if Desmond hadn’t stormed past her, Rebecca would have been able to tell something happened. 

That was only further confirmed by the way the boys acted in the following days. Where previously, Shaun had been tense and jumpy around Desmond, now the both of them seemed embarrassed to be around one another. She didn’t even know what happened to them in the first place, but evidently they’d talked about it and it had only made things worse. 

Shaun’s usually manic productivity fell to a crawl, half the time needing to be nudged to return to the present, only to feign work and then eventually zone back out again. Desmond’s absentmindedness was at least somewhat expected, but this wasn’t that. He was desynchronizing more often, taking damage and missing jumps, and it only got worse when he pushed himself to try harder. 

Honestly, the trip to Brazil couldn’t have come at a better time. Not that this was a vacation or anything, but they all needed a break, and the boys needed time to work through their issues. 

When she saw their room setup—her and Shaun in a room, Desmond and William in the other—she decided to speak up. 

“Hey, uh, Bill, hang back for a sec,” Rebecca put a hand on his shoulder, “I gotta talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

She glanced behind them, making sure Desmond and Shaun were out of range. And they were, still hovering near one another as they loitered around the lobby. “Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the boys are going through some shit right now.”

He scoffed. “And?”

“I just think we should give them some time to work it out. Things are really tense between them—you had to have at least noticed how distracted they both are, right?” 

“Rebecca, really, we don’t have time for this—”

“No, we don’t,” she agreed, “So we can’t let distractions get in the way of everything, and that’s what’s gonna happen if we leave them like this.” 

He looked back at them, too. They were very pointedly not looking at each other, even when they spoke. They were both definitely tense, which was clear in the way their shoulders stayed stiff and posture awkward, always shifting their weight and their luggage from hand to hand. 

“So what are you suggesting?” 

“We’re already gonna be split up and taking the night off anyway. All I’m saying is let them share a room this time, try to work their shit out. And if it doesn’t happen… at least we can say that we tried, right? Where’s the harm in that?” 

He had to concede the point. Neither of them were at their peak at the moment, and if giving them some time alone to work things out could potentially fix that… 

“Fine. You wanna be the one to tell them they’ll have to share one bed?”

She grinned. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” 

\---

Things weren’t any less tense as the night dragged on. Most of it was spent in silence, with only the barest minimum of communication being spared between them.

When Rebecca had approached them to tell them they’d be sharing a room (and a bed), Shaun had protested, of course, and Desmond… just nodded and took it. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had happened, but they really needed to. 

Shaun sure as shit wasn’t making that easy, though. He had basically shut down, refusing to even look at Desmond, let alone speak to him. Desmond tried to wait for him to come around, but he wasn’t budging. 

He’d give Shaun until ten-thirty. After that, they were having that conversation, whether he wanted to or not. 

\---

…

He didn’t. 

Desmond found himself leaning against the dresser at the foot of the bed, watching Shaun expectantly. Shaun, trying very hard to ignore him, busied himself with his laptop, like he’d suddenly decided to get back on track with his work after neglecting it for a week. 

“Shaun,” Desmond chanced. No response. “I, uh… I’m sorry.”

That made him pause and finally look up, confused. “You? For what?”

Desmond shrugged, running a hand over his neck. “For… blowing up at you, I guess. I-I didn’t mean the shit that I said, and it came when you were already upset… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Shaun considered his words, nodding a little in acceptance. Then, of all things, he scoffed and muttered under his breath, “Always have to be the better person, don’t you, Miles?”

“Shaun, don’t do this again, please.”

“What? It was a compliment.”

“Yeah, complimenting me by putting yourself down—I’m not here for that. You don’t deserve it.”

Shaun actually _sneered_ at him, “Then maybe you should stop being so bloody decent all the time.” 

Desmond sighed and shook his head. This really wasn’t getting them anywhere, so he changed tactics. “I did mean that other shit I said, though. About… well, everything. I heard what you said, I want to do the things you talked about.” 

Shaun broke his gaze and offered a quick shake of his head. That was the first “no” he’d heard from him since this all began. That was fine if he really didn’t want to do it, but after everything that had happened… Desmond didn’t believe it. 

“Can you at least tell me why? I won’t do it if you don’t want me to, but can I at least have a reason?”

Another scoff. “Think of it like this: why should you offer yourself to me when I’ve already taken something from you? What have I done to deserve it? Nothing, as far as I can remember.” 

“ …Is that why you’re rejecting me? You don’t think you deserve it? You want to punish yourself because of what you did?”

Shaun hung his head, not even wanting to look at him right now. “I’d say that’s what I’ve earned. Wouldn’t you?”

Desmond just stared at him, appalled. He was still shocked by how little Shaun seemed to think of himself sometimes. Part of him felt like this wasn’t a recent development, this was how he thought of himself before… what had happened. Yes, what he did was monstrous, but Desmond had already forgiven him for that. Was he waiting for Desmond to finally scold him to validate the way he viewed himself? 

“…You’re right, you don’t deserve it.” A surprised look from Shaun, like he hadn’t been expecting him to agree. “You haven’t earned it, but it’s not something you have to earn. I’m _asking_ for this, Shaun, of my own free will, why won’t you let me have it when we it’s something we both want?” He took a step closer, towards the bed, towards where Shaun was sitting at the edge. “You do still want it, don’t you?”

Shaun was left biting his lip, seriously thinking it over, but most tellingly, not saying no. 

Desmond leaned in, Shaun leaning back to avoid him, until he was resting back on his arms with Desmond’s hands planted either side of him. Despite their proximity, they still weren’t touching. “Please? I won’t keep bringing up what happened, I promise. And I won’t make this a feelings-based thing: this can just be sex and nothing more, if that makes you more comfortable.” That got him an interested look. Desmond smiled. “And hey—we can stop at any time, if you decide you don’t want to go through with it.” 

“You don’t have to keep bending over backwards for me, Miles,” Shaun sighed, finally setting aside his laptop, “I think you already know the answer, you can stop now.” 

A pause between them dragged on for longer than it should have, Desmond trying to process what he’d just heard, Shaun squirming in anxiety, afraid that he’d finally crossed a line. When it sunk in, Desmond was left smiling excitedly. “Really?”

Even Shaun was grinning now. “Christ, you’re thick.” Then he pulled Desmond down to kiss him. 

Part of him still couldn’t believe it was finally happening. Like this was a fabrication crafted by his guilt-riddled conscience to cope with what he did. Maybe Desmond had actually killed him and this was the last of his neurons firing off and creating one final fantasy before he was engulfed by the nothingness that awaited him. 

And yet Desmond’s weight was on top of him, he could feel it, he could taste his lips, he could _smell him…_

Shaun moaned against him, pulling Desmond down further and deepening the kiss. In the back of his mind, the memory of the last time he was in this position lingered: Desmond completely limp and at his mercy, a mercy that Shaun refused to give him. The exhilaration he had felt in the moment had all but vanished from his recollection, leaving him with only a sense of guilt and nothing more. 

This… was so much better. Desmond reciprocated, opened up, flicked his tongue against Shaun’s. Shaun could practically feel the breath of life that came from him being truly present: the way Desmond shifted his weight from one side to another, the subtle tremble from his arms supporting himself, the way his breathing was irregular and hitched when he went without air for too long. 

He was here. He was real. And this was happening. 

Desmond had to be the one to pull away, practically gasping, his face tinged a deep red that was barely visible on his olive skin. His eyes seemed hazy and his gaze distant, his lips bruised and slick with spit from the fervor of their kissing, a single bead of sweat ran from his forehead down his temple. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” Shaun muttered before he could think better of it. Desmond’s expression went from surprised to flustered in a second, ducking his head down to hide his embarrassment. Honestly, Shaun was embarrassed too—letting his mouth run before they had even started, before he could attribute his words to being something said in the heat of the moment and nothing more. 

Well, he was already in too deep, so…

“I mean that,” he cradled Desmond’s face in his hands, thumbs tracing along his cheekbones, “You’re like a sculpture, it’s unbelievable.”

Desmond averted his gaze, smiling shyly, “Thanks, I guess. Really, I’m more surprised by the fact that you can say these things to me.” 

Shaun smirked, “You bring it up outside of this, and I won’t hesitate to staple your pretty mouth shut.” Then kissed him again, deeper, feeling Desmond chuckle against him. 

Their hands roamed, to explore each others’ bodies, to tease, to urge clothes off as they learned about one another. Desmond’s breath hitched when Shaun’s fingers grazed over his nipples, a soft moan leaving him when they were pinched. He liked that. Good to know. 

Though it wasn’t intended, it felt like retaliation when Desmond’s hand ended up in his hair and he _pulled._ Gently, but still enough to draw a pleased groan from him. Shit. That… was less good to know, only confirmed by Desmond’s smug grin. 

“Don’t you say a _thing,_ ” Shaun warned. Not that he would do anything, he just… didn’t want to lose control of himself before they’d even started, and Desmond learning how to push his buttons would have done just that. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Desmond assured. He still repeated the same motion, stroking through Shaun’s hair and tugging in just infrequent enough intervals. He really didn’t mind it, but he had a vision of what he wanted, pulling away from Desmond and urging them apart so that Shaun was on top of him. 

“Please, let me, just…” He kissed him again, quick and chaste, before moving elsewhere. The side of his face, down his cheek, along his jaw, peck after peck interspersed with the occasional nip. Desmond’s face was hot, and it was only getting hotter. Shaun continued down his neck, paying particular attention to his Adam’s apple, grinning when he felt it bob as Desmond swallowed. 

Then along his collarbone and down his sternum, only deviating to continue lavishing attention on nipples. Gently, at first, rubbing and licking, eventually giving way to harsher pinching and biting. Evidently that did it for him far more than Shaun realized, able to feel the full-body shiver rock through him as he dug his teeth into one. The way it made Desmond curl in on himself and move to cover his chest, like he had something to hide, was incredibly endearing. 

Already his hands were wandering, making quick work of Desmond’s belt and unzipping his jeans just enough to slide his hand past and feel his hardening cock. He didn’t pull him out yet, just appreciating the weight and solidity through the thin fabric of his boxers—God, that was a feeling he couldn’t get enough of; it was enough to make a man drool. 

He couldn’t keep it up long, though, not with Desmond whimpering in his throat so pitifully at him, just begging him to let him out already. How could he say no to that? 

Shaun offered him a parting kiss before urging him out of his jeans, Desmond doing most of the work for him and kicking away his bunched up clothes to the edge of the bed. 

“Try to hold out for me,” Shaun muttered, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper, “I want to really savor this.” 

He vaguely saw Desmond nod, but his attention was elsewhere. Whether it was the difference in lighting or context, somehow his cock looked even better. It had to be context; Desmond was allowing him to see him and, better yet, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. 

He could do whatever he wanted. That was way too much power to be given to him, especially now when his arousal was beginning to fog up his mind, putting his body on autopilot and allowing his dick to drive it forward. No more thoughts, no more hesitating, just the mindless pursuit of pleasure. Shaun Hastings has left the building. 

One hand worked at his cock, the other fell to his balls. He took the time to admire the weight of both: his cock so heavy that, even fully hard, it wouldn’t be able to stand straight, skin pulled taut against firm flesh. He rolled Desmond’s balls in his free hand, relishing the soft keening it drew from him, only intensified when he dove down to suck them into his mouth, one after the other and then _both._

“Fuck, Shaun…” 

He returned to draw his tongue along the underside of Desmond’s cock, languidly so as to savor every inch, ending with his tongue flicking an errant drop of precum from the tip, but not before the taste hit him. God, the taste—

“‘ave you ever tasted yourself, Desmond?” he muttered, mouthing at the shaft and thumbing the slit, relishing the sound it drew and the bit of pre it teased out. 

Desmond, adorably bashful, nodded, quick and slight. “Y-yeah…”

“And?” Shaun smirked, looking up at him through lidded eyes, “What did you think? Did you like it?”

That question seemed to fluster him even more, a hand to his cheek half mumbling his reply, “Yeah… I did… I-I do, almost every time…”

The sound that left Shaun was needy and loud, halfway to a word but lost in the volume, cock dropping from his mouth and falling to one side from its own weight. He couldn’t help it—the blatant admission of that, the visual it created in his head— “Christ alive, you can’t just _say_ it like that…” Desmond even muttered a slight apology, as though he did something wrong. 

Strands of saliva still connected them, broken when Shaun’s fist sped up, slow and tight on every upstroke. He was transfixed on the sight: Desmond’s cock shiny with spit, the way the foreskin rolled up so far on every stroke and left only the tip exposed, precum bubbling from the slit. 

He couldn’t wait anymore. In the same motion, a stroke down, revealing the (beautiful, perfect) pink head, he took Desmond in his mouth, sinking halfway down in one swipe. The sound that left Desmond was incredible: a gasp giving way to groan from deep in his chest and a muttering of Shaun’s name. 

_Fuck,_ it sounded really fucking good coming from him. Shaun wanted more, wanted to make Desmond cry his name as he came. 

Even the sensation was incredible: the glide of it sliding along his tongue, hitting the back of his throat, the taste of skin and sweat and salt, even the smell was more pronounced here than anywhere else, clinging to his pubes and flooding Shaun’s senses with every dive down. It was _so good,_ it was everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dared to dream about. 

He couldn’t stop the soft keening in his throat, little moans escaping with every thrust. He could feel the vibrations, more pronounced the further down his throat Desmond was. Even through the blood rushing in his ears, he could still hear Desmond’s cries. 

Beautiful, desperate sounds; gasps every time Shaun took him in completely, long, drawn-out moans when he could feel his tongue working along the underside, whimpers of Shaun’s name when he drew back and paid particular attention to the head, sucking and tasting and teasing. 

One hand stroked whatever Shaun couldn’t fit in his mouth, the other wandering, at one point brushing a finger past Desmond’s hole. It wasn’t intentional, but the surprised gasp Desmond gave drew his attention. 

He pulled off with a wet pop and a smirk. “You wan’ that?” 

Desmond avoided his gaze, but nodded, spreading his legs wider in invitation. 

Shaun smiled at him before sucking a finger into his mouth and slicking it up (and internally admiring how cute Desmond could be). Slowly he pressed that same finger into him, curling it and stroking along the inner walls, all while watching for Desmond’s reaction. 

Eventually he found it, Desmond’s shoulders tensed and his head was thrown back. “Right there…” muttered to him in a hushed, urgent whisper. Shaun nodded, stroking that spot with the pad of his finger in small circles, all while appreciating the way Desmond’s body continued to react in so many different, subtle ways. The muscles in his thighs flexed, another string of pre dripped from his cock and gathered on his stomach, and he propped one leg up on the bed to open himself wider. 

Shaun forced himself down further onto his cock, determined to fit him in fully before the night was over. It left him gagging—but he managed, taking him in fully. All the way down to the root, right as he felt about to vomit, right as he could feel the ache in his jaw. _Fuckin’ hell,_ he was thick. 

He could have done it forever, and he would have loved to, his mind wandering at the thought. He envisioned himself being used as nothing but a hole for Desmond to fuck, forever on standby anytime he wanted it, forced to subsist on nothing but _cum_ for the rest of his miserable life—

He was so lost in his fantasies, he didn’t immediately notice Desmond warning him until he felt a hand in his hair tugging insistently, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Shaun— _Shaun_ —fuck, I’m close…”

To which Shaun could only hum his reply. Perfect timing, really. The taste of salt grew stronger, Desmond’s movements stuttered to a stop, Shaun pulled back just in time to catch it in his mouth rather than down his throat. His hand worked the shaft as Desmond rode it out, able to feel the subtle tremor in his entire body. Even the sounds leaving him changed, from full, throaty moans to a gasping and soft whining. 

Desmond pushed him off when the sensitivity grew to be too much, leaving Shaun with a literal mouthful that he was hesitant to swallow. Not because of what it was, but because he wanted to savor it like a fine wine. 

Horrible way to put it, but it was true. 

He didn’t get to enjoy it much, startled out of his tasting by Desmond grabbing him. He pulled Shaun down, smashing their mouths together and licking his way inside. Shaun couldn’t help the moan that left him, over the realization that Desmond was doing this to _taste himself._

It was incredibly sloppy, cum getting lost in the mixture of their saliva, dripping from them when they parted only to be lapped up again. By the time they parted for good, Desmond had wrestled away enough of it to end with a mouthful himself. They swallowed almost perfectly in sync, Shaun avoiding Desmond’s pleased gaze as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“My turn,” Desmond switched their positions yet again, “Or, your turn. I want to do it to you now.” 

Shaun immediately tried to reject that. “Y-you don’t have to… really, it’s fine.”

“Shaun—shut up,” Desmond was tugging at his jumper, urging him to take it off already, “I want to do this, I want to make you feel good too. Will you let me? Please?” 

Something about his asking so sweetly made Shaun blush. He didn’t respond, only moving to lay back and allow Desmond to push him down further. That was his confirmation. 

Desmond seemed pleased, giving him a quick peck and an offhanded whisper of “Good boy.” He didn’t mean it in any serious way, already moving to slide his hands up Shaun’s shirt—but then Shaun had to go and react to it. 

Not that he wanted to; if it were up to him, he’d be completely stoic at all times and never let anybody in. But he couldn’t; an embarrassingly loud gasp leaving him that he tried to stifle in his hand. He immediately averted his gaze, hoping against hope that Desmond wouldn’t notice. 

He did notice. At first he was concerned, afraid that he’d accidentally hurt him, only to see the way Shaun was burning bright red and avoiding his gaze, seeming to try and curl in on himself to hide… And he smirked, he had to fucking smirk. He really could read Shaun so easily, and he already knew what was going on. 

_Don’t look so fucking smug about it, Miles._

“You like that?” he would swear Desmond’s voice dropped an octave—Jesus Fucking Christ, like he _needed_ to be any hotter. “You wanna be a good boy for me, Shaun?” Shaun couldn’t even respond, finally uncovering his mouth only to give a soft whimper. 

It probably wasn’t all that surprising that he had this kink. Whether it was from a lack of affirming praise during his youth, or his own self-esteem issues, that… really, really did it for him in a way that was frankly embarrassing. 

_God, just kill him now._

Desmond didn’t even have the decency to break the awkward silence, letting Shaun stew in it as his lower half was stripped. He could feel the heat radiating off his own face, only growing stronger as Desmond… did nothing. He had fully undressed Shaun, leaving them both completely bare, and now he was just… staring at him. 

It was humiliating, and not in a fun way. He could see, from the way Desmond’s eyes were darting around, that he was comparing them. Shaun was doing the same thing, and the only conclusion he could reach was that Desmond was a fucking Adonis compared to him. Broad shoulders, beautifully tan skin, and even in the places where he was soft, the beginnings of toned muscles could be made out underneath. Everything about him was fucking perfect. 

Completely unlike Shaun. God, he didn’t even want to look at himself, he knew what he looked like—scrawny limbs, pudgy midsection, expanses of ginger hair all across his body but most prominent on his front, starting in the center of his chest and trailing all the way down his stomach to his cock. 

He didn’t hate the way he looked, necessarily, didn’t particularly care about his appearance, even in situations similar to this in the past. It was just… looking at himself next to Desmond…

…Desmond, who was now smiling at him. 

“Man, and you tell me _I’m_ hot,” he shook his head. There was an airy playfulness to his tone, but he wasn’t joking. He was serious. 

“Are you mad?!” Shaun shot straight up. He honestly could not believe him— _that_ was the conclusion that he came to? After all that time? He had the gall to try and be polite about it?

Yet Desmond seemed confused (and a little hurt) by his reaction. “I mean that, Shaun. Do you really think so little of yourself that you can’t accept a compliment?”

“Of course not…” he sighed, falling back down and rubbing his eyes from underneath his glasses, “It’s just… next to you… How could I compare?”

“Then stop fucking comparing yourself to me!” 

The direction of his voice shifted, Shaun looking up only to see Desmond towering over him. Not pinning him down strictly, but trapping him underneath, careful not to put all of his weight on Shaun. 

Desmond kissed him again, as sweetly and tenderly as ever, pulling away only to stare down at him with sad eyes. “I like you, Shaun, honestly. And I don’t just mean for your looks, even though…” he raised his eyebrows and stole a glance down, “… _Wow._ ” 

Shaun covered his face again, moaning pathetically. He didn’t resist when Desmond pulled his hands away, though he refused to look him in the eye again. 

Yet he continued. “I mean, I like _you,_ too. Even when you’re a dick, you’re still really fuckin’ funny. And you’re like, the smartest person I’ve ever met. And I’ve met da Vinci.” 

Shaun couldn’t help but laugh at that, whether out of the absurdity of the statement or the fucking comparison. “You’re awful.”

Desmond smiled and kissed him again. “…Even if you don’t want to believe the things I’m saying, know that I’m being honest about my feelings for you, okay?”

He wanted to make another quip, to rebuke the thought (although, now that he was thinking about it, maybe Desmond did have a point about him refusing to accept compliments—made all the more hilarious by his fucking praise kink), but it died in his throat as Desmond continued paying attention to him. 

He seemed to be doing the same thing Shaun had done earlier, slowly working down his body with lips and teeth and tongue, hands roaming to caress and hold parts of him he was embarrassed by. He was soft in some areas and scrawny in others, and Desmond ran his hands over every single part and squeezed, letting him know that _he liked it,_ all of it, and he wasn’t ashamed to show it. 

Desmond stopped right before his mouth reached Shaun’s cock, pulling away and leaving him thrusting up against the air desperately. “I don’t suppose you’d be down for me riding you?” 

Shaun whined and hid his face in his hands. God, the way he said it so brazenly, and the image it put in his head… “M-maybe another time…” in his periphery he could see Desmond nod, “I’m feeling kinda… _submissive_ tonight.” He smirked at the way that seemed to fluster Desmond. He could play this game, too. “Besides…” he took Desmond’s face in his hands, “right now all I want is for you to _fuck me_ with your stupidly thick cock.” 

“ _Shaun…_ ” Desmond actually whined, a pathetic sound deep in his throat, “It’s really not as impressive as you’re making it sound…” 

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much,” he taunted, unable to help himself. He felt Desmond smirking against him as he pulled him down into another kiss. 

Only for Desmond to pull away suddenly to scoot off the bed. Shaun would have chewed him out if he had the chance, but it didn’t last, Desmond only rising to grab his bag from the other side of the room and rifle through it. 

“Catch,” was the only thing said as he threw a bottle in Shaun’s direction. He didn’t ‘catch,’ the bottle (of lube, he now realized) limply hitting his chest and rolling to the side. He didn’t even want to know how or why Desmond carried that on him. 

“Thanks for the warning,” he muttered, smiling in spite of himself as Desmond rejoined him and examined the bottle. 

“Shit,” he sighed, shaking it in his hand, “almost empty. I guess you fucking me will have to wait. Gonna have to use this sparingly…” 

“And what does _that_ mean?”

“It means, shut up and spread your legs.” 

Shaun smirked. “Make me.” 

Desmond smiled right back, gladly taking on the challenge. His grip on Shaun was tight, nails digging into his thighs as he pulled them apart, so fast and so far Shaun could feel the pinch in his hips. In the same motion, he tugged Shaun further down the bed, landing him on his back. 

It was easy to forget that Desmond really did have some strength in him. And it was… really, really hot. It made Shaun wonder what else he’d be capable of… 

He didn’t entertain the thought long, though, distracted watching Desmond snag one of the discarded pillows and gently tap Shaun’s side to urge him up ( _like he was a fucking horse_ ). He did it regardless, allowing Desmond to place the pillow underneath him, supporting his lower half. 

Once he was situated, Desmond kissed him one more time, then began trailing down. Down his neck, along his collarbone, all the way down his torso with gentle nips and licks. Until he reached Shaun’s cock, hard and upright. Shaun couldn’t help but arch up against him as he drew nearer, a soft whimper leaving him, but Desmond pulled away before he could get any decent friction. 

He did give in a little bit, though, slowly encircling the head with his tongue and kissing his way down. Even with actual contact, it felt like such a tease, and that feeling only continued the further along he went. To the base of his cock, over and underneath his balls, until he reached… 

Shaun gasped, so loud and so suddenly he nearly choked, head thrown back so sharply it nearly hit the headboard. It was less a reaction to the sensation and more just… the _scandal._

“You’re disgusting,” Shaun hissed, even as he was stroking a hand through Desmond’s hair and urging him closer, “Keep going.”

Desmond huffed in amusement, the puff of air warm against him and making him squirm. His hands stayed planted on Shaun’s thighs, preventing him from clenching them shut as he was slowly worked open. 

“Try to relax, man,” Desmond pulled away just long enough to mutter that to him, his voice low and full of lust. Before Shaun could retort that _he was already doing that, thanks,_ Desmond’s hands moved, arms sliding underneath Shaun’s legs and encouraging them to rest on his shoulders. One hand reached around to grasp his cock, giving slow, gentle strokes, not to get him off, but to tease and distract him. 

He didn’t have a clear view of what Desmond was doing (and he wouldn’t be able to make himself look even if he did), forced to rely on sensations alone. Desmond’s lips were soft against him, easing him into the feeling, before lapping at him with the flat of his tongue. All to get Shaun to relax, to open up, and it worked—up until that same tongue was pressing into him insistently, making him involuntarily clench up. 

Desmond tried twice more with the same results before he finally broke through, with a smirk that could almost be heard. His tongue stiffened, he drew back just far enough to avoid pulling out altogether, then thrust back in. Christ, the things he could feel him doing with that sinful fucking tongue—thrusting, curling, _twisting—_

Until it was gone, he heard the sound of Desmond spitting, felt the heat and wetness sliding down his hole, followed by two fingers pressing into him. They paused, halfway in, at feeling him tense, the other hand working his cock squeezing so perfectly, all while Desmond left a trail of kissing along his inner thigh to urge him to relax. 

Only for them to pull out altogether, and Shaun caught a glimpse of Desmond sucking them into his mouth to further slick them up. He would swear he heard the bastard _moan_ at the taste—that had him hiding his face in his hands again. 

Fingers plunged inside him again, much easier, allowing Desmond to maneuver them much more smoothly inside him. Twisting, scissoring, arching upwards and searching until they hit his prostate, then thrusting in-and-out to repeatedly hammer on it until Shaun’s legs were shaking. His cock drooled over Desmond’s fist, his breaths coming out stuttered and erratic, horribly pathetic sounds leaving his throat in between urgent pleas of Desmond’s name. 

Then they were gone just as quickly, replaced once more by Desmond’s tongue. Shaun was still catching his breath, practically gasping, he barely paid it any mind. When he finally got his head back on straight, though, he could better take in the way Desmond was properly _tongue fucking_ him, now that he was more open. Fuck, he could even hear _him_ moaning over this—and that’s when it occurred to him that Desmond was doing this for himself more than Shaun. 

He was fine with that, but Christ, Desmond really was taking his sweet-ass time with it. 

“God’s sake—I’m not gonna break!” 

“I know that, I just…” he pulled himself upright and laid out by Shaun’s side. As he thought over his words, he pressed his fingers back inside, much less furiously this time. The pace was almost lazy, which only irritated Shaun that much more. “I want this to be good, I don’t wanna hurt you. I know how badly you’ve been wanting this.” 

His knowing smirk flustered Shaun, all but confirming his suspicions. “…How long _have_ you been wanting this, actually?” 

Shaun didn’t want to answer, only for the fingers inside him to pause. When he felt them slowly being pulled out, he barked out an answer. “A while, okay?” 

“Gimme an idea, put it in perspective for me.” 

“What, you want me to draw you a bloody timeline?” he sighed, squirming underneath his gaze. “…Since Monteriggioni, at least.” 

Desmond tilted his head, “Huh. Makes sense. That’s when we really started talking, yeah?” 

Shaun nodded, but still writhed underneath him, “Really, this has been a lovely chat, but I’d prefer to have it at a different time, if you don’t mind?” 

That made Desmond laugh and pull out all together. “Right, sorry, I almost forgot.” He pulled himself upright, retrieving the bottle from where it had rolled under Shaun. “You sure you’re ready?” 

“ _Yes,_ for God’s sake.” 

The cap clicked off, and Shaun laid back. He tried not to make it too, too obvious as he watched Desmond slick himself up, but the sight of him in low lighting, tugging his stupidly nice cock, the soft groan that left him… Fuck, he wouldn’t be able to forget that anytime soon. 

“Having fun?” Desmond teased, thoroughly spoiling the moment. Shaun avoided his gaze as his still-wet hand returned to him, fingers sliding into him easily and lube coating him inside and out. Desmond was still giving him concerned looks to gauge his reaction, even as he pulled out, even as he lined up, even as he moved into position. 

“I swear to God, if you ask me if I’m ready one more ti—!” a sharp gasp cut him off, Desmond taking his hint and sliding into him in one smooth motion. One hand steadied itself on Desmond’s navel, the other grasping the pillow underneath his head, trying in some capacity to brace himself. Despite all his complaints about being ready—he wasn’t ready. But in a good way. 

Desmond didn’t stop, taking what felt like forever to finally bottom out. Once he had, though, every muscle in Shaun’s body, previously wound so tight, seemed to relax, letting him fall limply against the sheets. The burn that would usually accompany the act wasn’t even there, or was so faintly in the background that it didn’t matter, all that remained was the comfortable fullness. 

His glasses were actually fogging up, so he plucked them off and dropped them to the side. Despite his blurry vision, he could make out the hint of Desmond’s tongue as he licked his lips. “…I uh… I really want to kiss you. Would that be gross, after…?” 

“Yes.” Even as he said it he was pulling Desmond down, kissing him hard, very deliberately tasting him as he noisily sucked on his tongue. “Absolutely _disgusting_ ” he growled, relishing the way his reaction and tone seemed to shock Desmond. 

It took a moment for Desmond to be stirred from his stunned silence, finally reciprocating once he managed to jump-start his brain again—only for it to immediately short circuit again at Shaun’s desperate plea to _spit in his mouth._

“God, you’re sick,” was muttered to him as Desmond placed a hand on his chin, willing him to open up. He did so gladly, tongue held out for good measure, inadvertently providing the perfect platform. He spit, quickly and suddenly, nearly hitting the back of Shaun’s throat. Shaun himself couldn’t hold back the pleased moan that left him.

There was something so perverse about it all—the way the tastes of them both mixed, the baser flavor of Desmond, yet still detectable were traces of himself, all of it congealing together to sit heavily on his tongue. He didn’t mean to make a show of it, his eyes falling closed as he swallowed audibly, but evidently he had, if Desmond’s gasp was anything to go by. 

“Jesus Christ, Shaun…” Desmond whispered, mostly to himself. Shaun didn’t know what it was over, but enjoyed the feeling of him trying in vain to press himself deeper, drawing strained moans from them both almost in unison. “You look… so fucking good like this.”

Shaun really had reached a point of no longer caring, didn’t have it in him to rebuke the sentiment, only humming his reply and smiling drearily up at him. He didn’t say anything for a while, he only laid back and luxuriated in the sensations; the heaviness of Desmond’s cock inside him, how he could feel it throb in time with his pulse, Desmond himself clinging to Shaun with sweat-slicked hands, every point where their bodies touched felt like they were on fire. 

It wasn’t until he felt himself going soft that he spoke up. “You gon’ fuck me any time soon or what?”

Desmond seemed surprised at his his tone. “I-I was waiting for you to tell me when…”

“Well, I’m telling you. _Now._ ”

Desmond stared at him with an unreadable expression, blank, until a smirk broke his veneer. “Can’t you ask a little nicer? Be a good boy and say _please?_ ”

Shaun visibly shivered at the words, unable to do anything but comply. “God—please, Desmond, I-I need… Fuck, you have no idea how badly I need this, how I’d…” he swallowed, face burning brighter at Desmond’s interested look. His voice dropped to a whisper, “How often I’ve _fucked_ myself on my fingers, thinking of you, about your cock, wanting to know what it’d feel like inside me—” He cut himself off with a gasp, Desmond finally taking the bleeding hint and moving, a quick withdraw and thrust back in, sudden and sharp. Anything else Shaun might have had left to say died on his lips, a deep, satisfied moan in its place. 

Fucking _finally,_ Desmond moved proper, resetting his grip on Shaun’s waist and using that point to steady himself. He didn’t even _start_ slow, impaling Shaun on his cock with every snap of his hips, every single of one of which drew a desperate gasp from him. The impact forced Shaun to brace himself against the headboard to keep from being rocked too far away, only serving to slam the bed against the wall even harder. 

The pace only picked up from there, brutal and unrelenting and _audible,_ the sound of skin-on-skin only drowned out by the noises from them both. Grunts, sighs, and swears from Desmond, and an endless stream of _filth_ from Shaun. His filter was completely gone, nothing to restrain his rambling train of thought. He never knew what it was over, but every so often Desmond would swear and mutter his name in response to something he had said. _As if he needed any more encouragement._

“Fuck—fuckin’ give it to me, mmneed it so bad, love feelin’ your hard, fat cock so deep inside me… H-hard, harder _harder harder_ —” a gasp, his eyes rolling back as Desmond gave him just that, hit _right there, “Yes!_ Just-just like that, fuck, d-don’t stop…!” 

Desmond ended up kissing whatever he could reach, along Shaun’s chest and shoulders and neck. Shaun clung to him out of instinct, forcing Desmond to readjust his center of balance. “So fuckin’ good, Shaun, feel so _tight_ around me, beggin’ for me so pretty…” Another hard thrust, another cry of his name. “Fuck, love the way you say my name… how you sound when you’re like this…”

“Des—Des—Des—!” Already he could feel the heat pooling in his lower half, his orgasm creeping up on him—God, and he hadn’t even touched himself yet, his cock leaking a steady stream on his stomach. He didn’t want it to be over, never wanted it to stop, but he couldn’t… 

A broken moan left him, “O-oh god, Des, not… mmh, not gonna last, so fuckin—you’re gonna make me cum, m-make me cum on your cock—!” 

“ _Do it,_ Shaun,” Desmond growled, actually _growled,_ “You’re so fuckin’ good for me, do it, _cum for me…_ ” His grip shifted, planting his fists in the mattress on either side of Shaun and driving into him with the force from his hips alone. Somehow, through all the strain he was putting his body through, he managed to find enough strength to slam into him like a fucking _jackhammer,_ and didn’t let up. With a cry of Desmond’s name, his voice cracked and eventually gave out altogether, and he was left with no other option than to ride through his orgasm, intense and overwhelming, with Desmond not letting up in the slightest. 

He swore he saw stars—he swore he saw _God._ He could feel himself shaking, every muscle in his body tensing and relaxing until he was _convulsing,_ he felt like he was losing his fucking mind. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out everything else, but he could _feel_ the vibrations of his cry echoing off the walls of the room. And still the onslaught didn’t stop, didn’t even slow until he could see again, his entire body rocking from the force of Desmond still pounding away at him. Fuck, he would swear his legs were going numb, arms trembling as he weakly clung to Desmond’s shoulders. 

Desmond was still making strained sounds, gasps and grunts, face buried into Shaun’s neck, until he pulled away and looked down at him, every move between them stilling. “S-Shaun, fuck, I-I’m close… Can I…? Inside?”

His eyes shot open and he quickly shook his head, “N-no, not… not tonight.” He wasn’t opposed to it, really, just… now wasn’t the best time. Desmond had the decency to only look _slightly_ deflated, but nodded understandingly and pulled out before he could get too carried away. 

God damn if that wasn’t a sight—his cock, achingly hard and desperate for release, slick with lube and pre, reddened at the tip and visibly throbbing. Shaun slapped his hand away before he could reach to finish himself off, taking him in his own instead. His free hand wrapped around Desmond’s shoulders and pulled him in, kissing him deeply and swallowing up all the desperate, needy sounds that left him. 

Some couldn’t be stifled, though, Desmond pulling away right as he was on the edge; a hushed, urgent whisper of Shaun’s name and he was cumming, thrusting blindly into his fist, teeth digging into his lower lip, eyes rolling back a little— _Jesus._

Shaun couldn’t take anymore tonight, but he’d be damned if that sight didn’t get one last interested twitch out of his own spent cock. 

Desmond’s head fell to his shoulder, a soft whimper leaving him as Shaun stroked him until the sensitivity became too much. Streaks of cum coated his fist, some gathered on Shaun’s cock and mixed with the remnants of his own. 

They seemed to have had the same idea: Shaun bringing his hands up to lick his fingers clean, Desmond diving down and lapping up their mess off of his stomach. As much as he could, anyway; the excessive hair all along his torso made it more difficult, no doubt a lot of it would be sticking and wouldn’t come out without a proper wash. That’d be fun to wake up to tomorrow morning. 

Shaun wasn’t even surprised when Desmond leaned up to kiss him again, the exchange as sloppy as ever and both of them too far gone to care. Whether it was because of him or Desmond (probably Desmond), they ended up in a different position, climbing over one another somehow without ever breaking contact. They only parted out of a need to breathe, gasping and trying not to choke on their respective mouthfuls. 

Shaun didn’t give them a break, even when they both needed it, hungrily licking his way into Desmond’s mouth and thoroughly enjoying all the sounds he swallowed up. Desmond had to be the one to push away, panting but smiling. “Jesus, Shaun…’

The two of them ended up lying on their backs, side by side, still heaving breaths, still coming down from the high they had been running off of. 

The clear-headedness brought on from the aftermath of an orgasm was honestly something that should be studied. Normally it allowed one to reflect on their depravity, depending on the activity beforehand, but it could also be used to get one’s head in order. 

Shaun had something to say, and there really wouldn’t be much of a better time. 

“I, uh…” his voice cracked. Great start. “I’m sorry.” 

Desmond looked surprised. “You? For what?”

“For… what I _did,_ Miles. Christ, keep up,” he really was trying not to be a knob about this for once, allow himself to be human. “I don’t think I ever formally apologized to you for it, after all. I know it’s not much, but… I can’t exactly excommunicate myself from the team, at least not right now…”

“Shaun, you’re doing that thing again…” Desmond warned, “You gotta stop that, man.”

Shaun just shrugged. He had a point, about him talking shit about himself, but it was hard to just stop it when it was asked of him. He’d have to work on that. 

“Since we’re talking about it… Are you finally gonna tell me why you did it?” 

Shit. He hadn’t been ready to have this conversation. Then again, if it were up to him, he’d never have to have it. 

He pressed his palms against his eyes until he saw stars, trying to will away the tears that were threatening to spill out. “I-I don’t… I don’t know why I did it,” he began, “I just… I guess it was something that I wanted, I wanted it so fucking bad… it was born out of my feelings for you… and you weren’t present enough to rebuke them. I think I was scared of that.” Honestly, not where he expected that to go, but the more he let his thoughts tumble out, the more they seemed to line up in a way that made sense. 

A broken sound left him, hands falling to his mouth to try and stifle it, tears falling more freely, unable to be restrained any longer. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Desmond, but could see him shifting in his peripheral. “Jesus Christ… I’m so sorry, Desmond.” 

He gave no resistance as Desmond pulled him upright and into his arms. Shaun melted against him, arms wrapped around him tightly and chin resting on his shoulder. All manner of embarrassing sounds left him; sobs, whimpers, sniffles, all interspersed in between apologies that ran together until they didn’t even sound like words anymore. 

His cries grew more desperate at Desmond’s soothing voice, shushing him, leaving Shaun whimpering as Desmond pulled away and pressed their foreheads together again, cradling Shaun’s face in his hands. Fuck, he must have been a mess, clenching his eyes shut to avoid acknowledging their proximity and trying to fight back the urge to pull away. 

“I-I never wanted to hurt you, _I’msofuckingsorry—_ ”

“Shh,” Desmond shushed him again, giving him a gentle kiss to top it off, “Shaun?” He drew his attention, forcing Shaun to finally look at him, staring into his eyes. His stupidly gorgeous eyes, fuck. “Thank you. That’s all I ever wanted, you know, just an apology.” 

Even just hearing that, a sense of relief washed over him, like he had made peace with what he had done and now they could move on. …And now he felt like a tit for being so difficult and evasive about it in the first place. It was _that easy._ Why the hell hadn’t he done that before?

Despite that, the tears didn’t stop, and he allowed himself to be maneuvered by Desmond until they were laying down, Shaun’s head resting on his chest. Occasionally Desmond would stroke a hand through his hair or kiss the top of his head. Shaun didn’t even know what the two of them “were,” if this was a casual thing or something more, and frankly he was too exhausted (and hesitant) to ask. 

Something about that worry got to him, made him pull away from Desmond once his crying had stopped. As always, Desmond seemed just fine with that, allowing him to go easily. Shaun wanted to face away from him, but found himself staring. Again. 

Desmond looked ready to say something, hands folded over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling in an oddly contemplative way. Shaun was about ready to give up on waiting for him, when he finally spoke up. “…Did you know Clay was in the Animus with me?” 

Shaun jerked his head up to look at him, far more shocked than he should have been to hear someone refer to him by name instead of number. “In there? With you? When?”

“When I was in that coma. I guess it wasn’t him, but it was the ‘him’ he uploaded to the Animus at Abstergo, and when Lucy took that thing from there, it brought him along.” He seemed to have a point he was getting to, but couldn’t keep himself from wondering. “Did, um, did you know him?”

God, that was… a whole other thing to unpack. “…Yeah, I did. I-I don’t want to get into it now, but… You were saying?”

“Yeah, um… No, he was there with me. When it… was happening, that thing you did.” _How polite of him to avoid putting a word to it._ “And we talked about it afterwards. I was pissed at you, honestly, I _was_ ready to kick your ass as soon as I got out of there, but… I don’t know, I talked to Clay about it. Even when it was happening, he made the point that… it was done out of fear, that you were scared and you… missed me.” He chewed his lip, right where the scar was, avoiding looking at Shaun now. “I-I don’t know if that’s the case, but that’s the impression that he and I got.

“He… talked about you like he knew you. I was angry, thinking you were a fucking monster for what you did, but he disagreed, said that didn’t sound like you. In the sense that… I don’t know, from my understanding, most rapists do it to feel powerful, or because they don’t respect other peoples’ boundaries… shit like that. And that ain’t you, I know it’s not.

“So… I don’t know, I guess I just don’t see it that way. Maybe I am too laid back.”

Shaun had been listening intently the whole time. He held back on his reactions, his desire to nod as Desmond pontificated aloud about his reasoning. He wasn’t looking for an excuse for his actions—in fact that’s what he was trying very hard _not_ to do. What he did was reprehensible, he’d never forgive himself for it (and frankly, Desmond shouldn’t either), but it didn’t come from a place of malice. He didn’t want to hurt Des, he never had, he was just impulsively driven by his own baser desires and wasn’t considering the consequences. 

Before he could think to voice those thoughts, though, Desmond was speaking again. “So, I guess I’ve already forgiven you, and… I’m ready to move on.” 

“…I still don’t think I’ve repented enough,” he settled on. He felt Desmond shift next to him, rolled over to see him suddenly much closer. 

“You really wanna make it up to me?” Shaun couldn’t help the excited nod he gave. Desmond only smiled at him, “It’s not gonna easy, there’s no one thing you can do to make up for it, you realize.”

“Right…” he knew that was coming, at least. 

“And this isn’t blackmail, by the way, I’m not threatening to tell the others or anything, I don’t think I’ll ever tell them. Not unless you want to. I just… want to work on stuff with you.” 

“Such as?” 

“I wanna get you to stop talking shit about yourself, for starters,” he was on top of Shaun, now, pressing their foreheads together in a very sweet gesture, “And I want you to talk to me more about what you’re feeling. This whole thing started because you were too fuckin’ scared to tell me how you felt. Put your pride on the backburner—if not for yourself, then for me?”

Shaun hesitated. _If not for himself, then for Desmond._ That made it seem far more viable, when it wasn’t framed in the context of easing up on hating himself. He could do it for Desmond. And in time, maybe he could do it for himself. 

Finally Shaun nodded, as best he could given their proximity. Desmond had his eyes closed, but smiled at his answer, rolling off him again. He still clung to Shaun, urging him closer until he was pressed tightly against his back, arms around his waist. 

It was… incredibly comfortable. In all his fantasies, he never could have imagined the full grasp of the sensations—Desmond so warm against him, limbs strong and his grip possessive. 

It made him feel wanted, it made him feel loved. 

…That was when it occurred to him, what he was feeling towards him. Desmond wanted him to be open and honest, but… he couldn’t really just _say it,_ could he? 

“Shaun,” Desmond muttered into his neck, “You’re thinking again.”

That made him scoff. “How do you figure?”

He could feel Desmond’s smirk. “Your shoulders went tense. Also you’re fidgeting with your hands again.” 

Shit, had he been? He hadn’t even realized; it came to him so naturally when he was thinking, the way he’d rhythmically tap his fingers in sequential order against whatever was available. In this case, it had been the expanse of mattress stretching out in front of him. He clenched his fists to try and stop himself from doing just that. 

“What’s on your mind?” Desmond prodded. 

Shaun just shook his head as best he could. “It’s nothing, really.”

“You’re not a very good liar when you’re nervous, you know.” 

“I…” Shit, he could see right through him, couldn’t he? “I-I don’t want to talk about it, I’m not ready.” That was truthful enough, and would get Desmond to back off, not wanting to press the issue and force him (too far) out of his comfort zone. 

Sure enough, Desmond hummed against him, seeming ready to let it go. “If you say so. Try and get some sleep, man.”

Shaun hummed in reply, his lips quirking up in a smile despite himself. 

He really didn’t need to burden Desmond with his feelings, not with the weight of the world on his shoulders. There would be time for that eventually, for Shaun to voice his thoughts and to figure out what they were. 

He could do it later. They had time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~if u up for a larf pls imagine the phrase "like he was a fucking horse" in the same tone of voice as[this](https://youtu.be/067fxuEVmjw?t=232) bcuz is2g thats been my echolalia for like a month now~~
> 
> once again i continue to surprise myself with my fics taking on a life of their own long after i think i'm done with them. **this is where you stop reading if you want a happy ending.** i should have an epilogue right after this (different fic altogether) thats the sad ending because my enabler enabled me. :P

**Author's Note:**

> if needs be said, obvy i dont condone or excuse shaun's actions and neither should you. desmond's too chill about this lmao
> 
> continuing my incredibly inappropriate trend of naming shit after songs (seriously, its ridic), this time it's named after [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sn3cHUtNZKo) ~~because i'm a hoe for literally anything pc music-adjacent.~~ because what better way to follow up a horrible assault than with a video of caroline polachek square-dancing in hell. its a great shaun/des song if nothing else lmao  
> bonus: check out [the remix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JVXby5fpcg) if you're also PC Music trash lol. that was my soundtrack for this fic.


End file.
